


It's New York City

by callmechristinae



Series: Livejournal Migration [17]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: F/F, F/M, Film Noir, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-16
Updated: 2006-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmechristinae/pseuds/callmechristinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger Davis has just returned from the war and the world seems different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's New York City

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Rent Film Noir AU.

_It’s New York City. The year is 1944. I’ve been home for a few months now. Got swept up in the damn war just like everyone else. Thought it would be glamorous to protect my country from the Nazis and the communists and whoever else we’re fighting. Next time I do something stupid like that, I’ve got to remember to stay further away from exploding land mines. Shit like that gets me sent home. Not that that’s a bad thing._

Roger Davis sits on the padded bench by the window, rain pattering on the window as he strums softly on his guitar. He doesn’t quite know what he is playing, the tune something not entirely depressing and no challenge to play. His arms bear the scars of war, only recently healed. Sharp shadows are crossing his face, the only lights coming from a few scattered stars, the neon lights of the club down the street, and the occasional war plane overhead.

_Of course, when coming home means finding your girl dead in the bathtub, war doesn’t seem all that terrible. Home just ain’t the same anymore, between April being gone and the way New York is now. I remember being able to just sit on the grass in Central Park with my guitar, the sun shining down on my face while Mark bounced around filming whatever caught his fancy. Now, it seems like there are always clouds overhead. The sirens wail at least twice a day, and everyone seems afraid to talk to someone new. It doesn’t help that Collins disappeared after he held that anti-government rally. Angel’s really worried ‘bout him._

Roger sighs, placing his guitar down on the ground beside him. He pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin softly atop them.

_To be honest, I’m worried about him too. When FDR and Truman died, everything went to shit. I was overseas when it happened, but Mark says it was terrible. We don’t even have a damn president anymore. What the fuck is up with that? We can’t talk about it in public though, or we might disappear like Collins. Damn anarchist fool…what did he think he was doing? Now isn’t the time to be noble. We need to just wait until this war is over, then start thinking about the enemies within._

Roger looks around the room, his eyes already adjusted to the seemingly everlasting lack of light. Mark is sleeping on the couch, still afraid that if he goes to sleep in his own room he’ll wake up and Roger will be gone.

_Poor Mark. All his friends are the kind that stir up shit. He’s not like that. I mean, of course he cares and all that, but he’s realistic. He doesn’t go and organize rallies, he just makes his films, whispers a few comments here and there, then goes about his business. His girl Maureen had to go and dump him for that chick Joanne and wants him to help her out with some protest about Collins. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep her quiet. But, the point is, if we aren’t more careful, Mark is going to end up all alone. I’m worried about what might happen to him if we do. He’s too damn trusting of people._

Roger gets up from his spot by the window, moving to sit down on the ground by his friend’s head. He reaches back and wraps Mark’s arm across the front of his shoulders, taking comfort in his presence. It seems like the only thing that’s warm anymore is Mark.

_He’s going to get in trouble with all that ‘measure your life in love’ shit if I’m not around. Look at where his friendship with Benny got him. He was in jail for a week on suspicion of spreading anarchist ideas. Just cause he goes to some of those Life Support meetings every once in a while doesn’t make him a hard core democrat. Liberal. Whatever the fuck it is that I am that people don’t like. He’s always been there for me. I need to make sure that I’ll be here for him._

Mark stirs some more, his eyes opening sleepily. He smiles gently when he notices Roger in front of him.

“Hey you,” he whispers, voice cracking from dryness and sleep.

“Hey,” Roger whispers back, leaning into the warmth behind him.

The sit in silence as the sirens go off and explosions can be heard in the distance.

_Another day in paradise._

*~*

Roger sits on the now vacated couch, waiting for Mark to return from the Life Support meeting with Angel. The rain is still falling, but quiet has returned to the city in the wake of the most recent bombing raid.

_I worry when he goes to those things. He is my best friend after all, so it’s perfectly normal for me to worry like this. I bet half the people there are government agents anyways…okay, maybe not. But, I mean, look what happened to Collins…_

There is a knock at the door, startling Roger.

_They shouldn’t be back yet, they just left._

Roger gets up, making his way slowly over to the door. He pulls it aside quickly.

“What you forget?” he teases gruffly, seeing only a silhouette in the darkness of the stairwell.

“Got a light?”

Roger freezes, seeing the woman come into the loft. She’s gorgeous. The moonlight is glinting off of her soft brown hair, making the long tresses shimmer. Her red dress clings to her in all the right places, which is everywhere. She is smiling, holding a candle out in front of her. Her dark lips are pouted into a light smile, her eyes glimmering in amusement.

_She looks familiar. I think I’ve seen her somewhere, back when I used to go out._

Roger stands in shocked silence for a moment, just staring at the woman in front of him.

“Are you just going to stand there and gape or are you going to let me in?” she asks, making the decision for him as he pushes her way past him. She spins around the room smoothly, pausing every so often for something of interest. She takes interest in the pictures scattered around, all of them either of Roger from his glory days as a front man for a rock band or of Roger, Mark, and some combination of their friends. She stops her movements and turns back to face Roger.

“They say I have the best ass below fourteenth street.”

_What?_

“What?” Roger asks, his head snapping up to her face.

“You were staring again,” she whispers seductively, coming back across the room and leaning too far into his personal space. Her perfume wafts around them, making Roger’s eyes flutter a bit. She pulls his arms around her, wrapping her own around his neck.

“Wanna dance?” she asks, not really giving him a choice. The move in smooth circles around the room. They pause every so often, the mysterious girl with the candle stopping to ask him questions. She makes him feel special, wanting to know about him and his friends and his life. She presses a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth as she pulls away.

He reaches into his pocket quickly to distract himself from the fluttering of his heart, pulling his matches out and lighting her candle.

“Thanks,” she breathes into his ear.

She places a hand on his chest, pushing him to the side a bit. Her hand trails down his stomach as she moves by.

“I’m Roger,” he says, a little too loudly.

She turns around, her face illuminated by the candle in her hand.

“They call me Mimi.”

*~*

_Mimi. The girl downstairs. She’s Mimi. That name is filled with trouble. But, I tend to get in a lot of trouble…no, I don’t mean like that, I mean…why the fuck am I arguing with myself._

Roger shakes his head visibly, causing Mark and Angel to chuckle from where they’re seated on the table. The little sunlight that there is filters in through the large windows of the loft. The rain, of course, is still falling.

“You think you’d be willing to go out today?” Mark asks, distracting himself from what Maureen and Joanne are doing on the couch, as innocent as it is.

_There goes Mark, always trying to make everything better. Ever since I got back, he’s always been trying to get me out into the world again. But, even if I did want to, what would we do? Watch our friends get shipped off to God knows where and take pictures of the craters in the streets?...But, then again, it’s what Mark wants, and I want him to be happy. I really really care about him…I mean, Mimi will probably be out at that club. Yeah. That’s what I meant._

“You know what Mark, I think I would be,” Roger responds, hiding his grin at the large smile that splits Mark’s face. Maureen and Joanne glance up from the yellowed newspaper they’re reading to look at the recently returned soldier in shock. They quickly looked back down when Roger looked over at them.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why the hell not.”

*~*

_Fuck. This is why I don’t go out anymore._

Roger sits in the corner of the club, Mark sitting beside him looking just as bored. They had been drawn in by the flashing neon lights, which had stood out so sharply in the dark world they were living in. Now, they are stuck in a booth while some fellow New Yorkers drink and gamble and government soldiers enjoy their night off.

_These soldiers aren’t like the ones I served with. They were all full of hope and thoughts of glory. These ones, I don’t know what happened to these ones. They’re too eager to ‘catch people in the act.’ They seem, corrupted somehow. They’re the ones Collins was worried about, and they’re the ones who took him away._

The air is smoky and the jazz piano plays haltingly in the center of the room. The balls at the pool table clatter as Maureen and Joanne play, ignoring the soldiers watching them from a nearby table. The prevailing feeling in the room is boredom, then she walks in.

Mimi is in yet another striking dress, this one a royal blue. Her long brown hair flounces behind her, barrettes of stars on each side of her head. Her eyes are bright and outlined by thick eyeliner and blue eyeshadow. Everything about her is perfect.

That is, except for the man who has his arm looped around her waist.

“Fuck,” Roger mutters into his beer.

“What?” Mark’s head shoots up, hoping for any form of excitement. “Oh.”

_Goddamn motherfucking Benjamin Coffin III. I should have known. There is nothing that man wants that he doesn’t have. I knew he had some pretty new mistress…I had just hoped it wasn’t her._

The two are seated at a nearby booth and handed menus. Benny is thoroughly engrossed in the listings in front of him, but Mimi looks over his shoulder at Roger and winks.

Roger’s eyes widen dramatically, making Mark raise is eyebrow in silent question. He begins to turn around, until Roger clamps a hand over his to stop him. The two remain frozen for a moment, looking at their interlocked hands before quickly pulling away from each other.

“Sorry,” Roger mutters.

“It’s okay,” Mark whispers, leaning back and clasping his hands loosely on his chest.

“I’ll be right back.” And with that, Roger gets up and makes his way over to the bathroom. He moves quickly through the door, cleanly avoiding any contact with any of the wannabe soldiers. He grasps the sink, splashing cold water on his face and staring at himself in the mirror.

_Roger Davis is a fool. A fool who will never ever find love again because he looks in all the wrong places. Namely, gorgeous taken girls in tight dresses who want him to light their candle. I will be alone for the rest of my life and there is nothing I can do about it. I can’t even figure out this weird feeling in my stomach when I think about my best friend…_

Roger jumps, turning around as the door opens and Mimi strides in. She looks around for a few moments before moving in and slamming him back against the sink. She roughly claims his lips, taking charge in every way.

All too soon she pulls their lips apart, leaning closer to touch her lips gently to his ear.

“You didn’t think I was really interested in you, did you,” she whispers in that same seductive voice. Roger tries to stop the shivers moving up and down his spine, not liking the words he is hearing. 

“Why would I be interested in a washed up soldier with no money? Love? Some unexplainable attraction?” she continues, trailing her delicate fingers up and down his back. Roger appears stoic, his tight shoulders and his clenched jaw the only indicators of anger.

“Benny pays handsomely for my services, both at home and on the streets,” she smirks, her hand playing with the waistband of his pants. Roger grabs her hands tightly, pulling the roughly away. Mimi stumbles back, quickly regaining her balance with a smile.

“You see, I have ways of getting information. I thought that you might have some to give me concerning some of those trouble making friends of yours, but you’re not even any good for that,” she spits out, laughing at the broken look on Roger’s face.

“Just be happy I think you’re cute, or else I’m sure I would have found something that would have peaked Benny’s interest.” With a soft pat to Roger’s cheek, she disappears out the door.

_So this is what the world is coming to. Beautiful girls getting paid to do a corrupted government’s dirty work. Now, who are the real enemies?_

Roger moves quickly across the club, pointedly ignoring the table Benny and Mimi occupy. He grabs Mark by the wrist, pulling him quickly out the door. Maureen and Joanne hurry after them, happy to escape the lecherous gazes of the soldiers. Angel slips gracefully after them, heels making little noise against the pavement.

The walk down the street is silent with the exception of the war planes in the distance. Mark continually glances down at the hand firmly clamped around his wrist, pulling back when they are only a few feet from the door to the apartment.

“What’s going on Roger?” Mark asks gently, their friends listening with rapt interest. The rain has matted his hair against his head and is providing the illusion of tears. His glasses have fogged up, but his blue eyes still have the power to bore into Roger’s soul.

“Not out here,” Roger whispers, slipping his hand into Mark’s.

_It’s too dangerous to talk about these things out here. He could get hurt. He’s all I have left, I couldn’t possibly lose him too. I love him…what! I do. I love him. I love Mark._

Mark is still looking at Roger, his brows furrowed in confusion. Roger tugs on his hand, and the group of five quickly makes their way into the building and up the stairs.

Once in the loft, they all settle down on the broken furniture, attempting to dry themselves with the towels left out for this specific purpose.

Roger quickly launches himself into the tale of the beautiful girl with the candle, the special feeling he got in his chest, and the following betrayal. They all listen with rapt attention, Mark moving closer and closer to his friend on the couch.

“I could have fucked everything up,” Roger growls, dropping his head down into his hands.

“What would you have done. None of us are doing anything,” Maureen assures, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Roger’s shoulder.

Mark and Angel look to each other, an entire conversation taking place in a single glance. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that Maureen.”

Roger’s head shoots up to look back and forth between Angel and Mark.

_I knew those damn Life Support meetings could get us in trouble. Not for anachists they said. Right. They’re probably in there talking about overthrowing the government or something. I knew I should have kept them from going._

“It’s not the Life Support meetings Roger,” Mark says gently, placing his hand atop his friend’s.

_I hate how he can read my mind like that._

“You see, Angel and I, we…well…we…” Mark trails off, his other hand flapping about as it often does when he’s flustered.

“I’m a spy and Mark is my contact,” Angel says very matter-of-factly, straightening her skirt.

“What!?” Roger shouts, in perfect unison with Maureen and Joanne.

Angel sighs delicately, looking out the window into the pounding rain before continuing. “Great Britain was concerned with certain factions in the United States government before the tragedy that took the president and vice president. They believed that some in the government had known that Pearl Harbor was going to be attacked and even encouraged it to happen.” Maureen clasps a hand over her mouth as tears trickled from her eyes. “They also knew of a possible plot to take over the government by these same people and shared this information with your president.”

“Our president?” Joanne asks, resting a hand on Maureen’s shoulder for comfort.

“Yes, your president. I’ll get to that,” Angel assures. “So, your president set up a secret part of the CIA that no one else in the government knew about it. More secret than the Manhattan project.”

“The what?” Roger asks, the confusion on his face matching Maureen and Joanne’s.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. What a spy I make.” Angel giggled. “Yes, well. There is this secret division, and I know I can trust you all with this information. They are ready to take the government back when this war ends, returning the nation to the sacred democracy that had made it so great. I am one of many spies for Great Britain that was sent over to aid them when the time arises, gathering information on guard locations and schedules, learning about the government’s strategic practices, things like that. I was assigned a contact, who I made the mistake of falling in love with.”

The silence permeates the room as all the occupants think about their friend Collins, still missing in action.

“If he was your contact, then why did he go to all those demonstrations?” Maureen asks, leaning forward to catch every word.

“Because that was what would be expected of him considering who he was before the war. Being quiet when one should be outspoken draws just as much attention to you as a holding a protest,” Angel explains delicately.

“Where does Mark fit into all this,” Roger questions, directly it at Angel but staring at Mark’s down turned face.

“When Tom left, Mark was assigned as my new contact. He helps me communicate with my government and I give him information for his group. He’s a relatively low ranking intelligence officer, but he’s good at what he does,” Angel says with a smile, jostling Mark’s knee with a grin.

Roger sits back, letting everything sink in.

_Okay, Mark, sure safe stable Mark, is a spy. And I was worried about him not being safe. He’s probably constantly worrying about me saying something stupid and exposing him. And I yelled at him for hiding in his work when I went off to war, saying he didn’t understand what it was like to serve one’s country. Boy was I wrong._

Mark reaches out, clasping a hand around Roger’s shaking ones.

“Roger?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to take in,” Roger responds, pulling his hands back to wrap his arms around his friend. Maureen and Joanne move off to the kitchen area, followed by Angel. The three together begin to make some coffee. It’s going to be a long night.

_He’s had to deal with all this on his own while I wallow in all my self pity. I thought he had it bad already, but a spy too? Nothing is making sense anymore._

“Roger, I’m still the same Mark. I just…have a different occupation,” Mark whispers with a grin, wrapping his own arms around Roger’s middle.

The two look at each other for a moment before Roger leans in to whisper in Mark’s ear. “Can you promise me something?” 

“Anything,” Mark says softly, resting his head on Roger’s shoulder.

“No more secrets.” Mark begins to protest, but Roger stops him quickly by placing a finger to his lips. “I know there are certain ones, obviously, that you can’t tell me. But, when it comes to us, no more secrets, please.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mark sounds uncertain as he looks into Roger’s eyes.

Emerald locks with blue. “Positive,” Roger responds, taking Mark’s chin in his.

The two lean forward, their faces slowly coming closer and closer together. They are so close that the are sharing the same breath.

“Coffee’s ready!” Maureen shouts, startling to two and sending them to opposite sides of the couch. Mark blushes as he hears Joanne smack her lover and Angel whispering angrily.

Mark is startled when he feels strong arms around him again. He looks up to Roger’s eyes and, now, the moment is perfect.

Their lips touch gently and, for a moment, all they see is light.

*~*

_It’s New York City. The year is 1947. The war has been over for a few months now, the government was taken back, thanks to sweet little Mark. Okay, a lot more people in addition to sweet little Mark, but I know that he helped._

Roger looks down at the man laying in his arms, pressing a kiss to the soft blonde hair.

_The democracy is back, a new president has been elected, all the troops are home, and Collins is back._

Roger smiles as he hears Collins and Angel making breakfast in the main room of the loft, obviously having a lot of fun with the simple task.

_Benny and Mimi are in jail for war crimes. Apparently they were mixed up in some business in Boston that’s depressing to think about. But, life is good. There is an overabundance of light for the first time in years. I’ve found the love of my life. Everything in the world seems like it’s back to normal._

“Mark! Get your scrawny ass out of bed. If we miss the meeting with the Vice President it’ll be you going to Moscow and not me!”

_Well, maybe not everything._

 


End file.
